


Early

by Cockbite (personalized_radio)



Series: NSFW/PWP [9]
Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: F/M, Morning Sex, just morning pwp baby, shmut basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 21:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17947070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/personalized_radio/pseuds/Cockbite
Summary: It’s his hands that wake her up.





	Early

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiden/gifts).



> LMAO this is just a pwp i wrote for jackie whoops

It’s his hands that wake her up.

Lindsey knows Brett’s hands, sometimes better than she knows her own, and it’s the feeling of his fingers stroking her hip that have her coming back to their bed, feeling the sun slanting against her skin through their blinds.

“Too early,” she says into her pillow, because it _is_. But she also wiggles closer so she can feel him against her back, so it can’t be _too_ too early. 

“It’s almost ten,” Brett huffs warm laughter against the back of her neck and she smiles without opening her eyes. 

“Too early.” She repeats and turns over so she can snuggle against him. He’s always so damn warm, no matter what, and this morning is no different. He welcomes her easily, lifts his arm for her to duck under and lets her rest her head on his other arm, her forehead against his shoulder. He drops his arm across her waist, palm flat to her back to stroke up and down her spine. 

“I think any time is too early for you,” He teases, scruff tickling her forehead where she’s all up in his space, and she thinks about responding to that but decides to just try to wriggle her way closer instead. 

Somehow, she manages it, tossing a leg over his hips. She kind of feels like a cat sunning herself on a rock at this point. Brett makes a good rock, though she’d like it even more if neither of them were wearing underwear. 

“Oh, are we ignoring each other now?” He curls his elbow up so he can bring the tips of his fingers through her bedhead and while she’s trying not to smile, trying to pretend to still be asleep, he goes back to swishing his thumb against her hip bone, just above where her panties lie.

“No, we’re sleeping,” she whispers back, like if she doesn’t break the quiet of the morning - birdsong and the distant sound of cars - it won’t go away. 

“I think I’m done sleeping,” he copies her volume, but not her tone. She can feel the heat in his voice as well as she can feel the heat of his groin, just below where she’s plaastered herself to his flesh, and he rocks his hips a little, enough for her to feel the head of a hard dick through his boxers against the cheek of her ass. 

“Coulda just fucked me,” She grins into his pec, feels the shiver that rips through him and can’t help but image it. Not waking up to Brett’s questing touch or asks of permission but just his cock spearing her, or, fuck, waking up to him already inside, having eased his way in while she slept.

She feels her panties beginning to dampen.

“I’ll remember that next time,” Brett promises and lets his hand dip under the elastic of her panties. It’s a dark sort of promise that makes her grin wider. 

“No, you won’t, pussy,” she pokes at his side to make him flinch and he does with a yelp, nearly snapping the waistband of her panties back into place with his reaction.

“ _Bitch_ ,” he hisses back and pinches her ass. She laughs, hooks her leg up a little higher to open herself up for his fingers as he continues to reach down, curl between her cheeks and across her asshole to her wet opening.

“Boss ass bitch,” She agrees, but her voice isn’t as strong as she had attempted to make it because he’s dancing fingertips along her slit, delving in but never deep enough to actually penetrate. 

“More like boss ass slut,” 

“Oh, clev - _er_ -” she yelps, arching into the sudden pressure of two fingers pushing inside of her, forcing her walls to open to him, ready or not. She’s wet enough and her body is relaxed from sleep and warmth, but it’s still sudden enough to _shock_ and she loves every second of the feeling.

“Sometimes the truth is simple, not clever,” He laughs and twists his fingers with her hips so she can’t force them deeper, much to her annoyance.

“B _rett_ ,” She whines when she doesn’t get her way for too long. She decides to take matters into her own hands when all he does is nuzzle his face into the top of her hair. 

His fingers feel nice, _super_ nice, he knows how to touch every part of her, even if he isn’t very deep. But it’s not what she’s after now, so she drags her hand down from where she’d had both her arms curled into his chest and tugs at his boxers with an insistence not unlike when she’s yanking Aleks away from a fire. Her own leg is in the way but she’s flexible enough to go over it and tug one side of his boxers down to the point that she feels the stiff curls of his pubes on her thigh and the firm muscle of his thighs, the slight swell of his belly.

“Damn, Linds,” She can hear the grin in her voice, feel it in how he strokes her hair, “Desperate already?”

“Yes, motherfucker,” She knuckles his thigh hard enough to get him to jump again, bites her lip when she bucks her hips and gets a brush against her clit from one of his fingers in reward, “You woke me up for this, let’s get a move on,”

“Let’s get a move on,” he repeats, exasperated; or, trying to be, at least. Instead, it just comes off as fondly put upon, which is the norm between the two of them. 

“Yes, Brett,” She tugs at his boxers, as far as they’ll go in her current position, “Put the D in my C, so we can both O.” 

“You skipped pretty much all of the letters there, bud,” Brett says, like either of them could sing the damn alphabet right now, but he moves before she can start to complain too much. It takes a little situating, and she has to give up his fingers so he can get his boxers down enough and tug the crotch of her panties aside but then he’s hitching up her leg against his hip. 

“Finally,” She breathes out, her hand having found his length to guide the burning head to her cunt.

“Finally,” He repeats back, and it’s not teasing at all as he pushes in.

She has to gasp. Clutch at his arm where he’s holding her thigh and feel how he’s shivering with the need to just _thrust_. He holds himself back, though, and goes slow. Drags it out for both of them, takes hours and hours to sink in as deep as he can at the angle they’re in. 

“Brett,” She ducks her head, kisses along the skin of his chest, butterfly kisses when she can’t focus enough to do anything else except _feel_.

“Right here,” He weaves his fingers into her hair, tilts her head back and leans down to kiss her, morning breath and all as their hips meet under the heat of the blanket. She’s sweating, cold down her spine where he isn’t touching anymore and on her thighs and between her legs, her chest where her breasts are squeezed tight against his front. She can feel where he’s sweating, too, grip slick, and it’s so _hot_ that all she can do is clutch at him and roll her hips against his.

Brett holds her in place after a minute, holds her still so he can adjust positions, can hit her g-spot when he grinds into her. 

She curls her leg around his hips, hugs him close to her even as she wraps her arms around his neck and shoulders to do the same above the blankets. 

“Good morning,” He pants into her mouth and she swallows it up happily, along with his tongue, petting the smooth base of his skull in gratitude every time his smooth strokes into her hit that _spot_ that makes her clench tight around him in response. 

“Too early,” She repeats back, though she’s sure it’s barely understandable between the panting. She’s burning the fuck up, too hot from the blankets and friction and pleasure. 

“I’ll make coffee,” He promises and then rolls over onto his back and drags her on top like he was reading her mind. It drops her that last inch down and she arches up before she can think about it, moaning out loud at how fucking perfect he feels inside of her, how he fits, fills her up just right, like Gold-indsey and the Three Cocks or something.

She doesn’t hesitate to take charge on top. She just sets her hands on his stomach for balance, the hard muscle beneath the give of skin there to help her, and lifts herself up so she can drop back down. 

It gets a groan out of him, propped up on a pillow and watching her with dark, hungry eyes still half-closed from sleep. He reaches up to cup her tits with both hands, roll them between rough fingers and tweak her nipples as she rides him and flashes a sharp grin when she leans forward to make it easier for him. She snaps her hand around one of his wrists, more for balance and stability than anything, so he tangles their fingers together instead and it’s soft, _soft_. 

“Pussy,” she smirks down at him and gets a sharp jab into her body for the insult that has her shuddering hard in his lap.

“Try the insults when you aren’t choking for my dick, babe,” Brett says sweetly, and then eats _his_ words when she twists her hips and clenches hard enough that his eyes nearly roll. 

“Mhm, because you have so much room to talk, _babe_ ,” she sing-songs back.

It doesn’t last long. Morning sex like this doesn’t, usually, when they’re both horny as fuck and _want_ each other. He tugs her down so she can brace herself against the headboard above him and gets a strong grip on her hips, flattens his feet out on the bed so he has more leverage, and - and -

She isn’t ashamed, and he is proud, to admit that she comes three times before he’s done with her. He knows where to hold her on her spine so he can piston into her like a goddamn machine and she knows that her high-pitched whimpers get him off like nothing else, clutching at her own breast more out of a sense of ‘Jesus Christ, holy fuck,’ than out of a sense of pleasure, while she watches him watch her with those _eyes_ -

She’s still shivering from her last orgasm when he comes, inside because he’s a dick and takes advantage of her birth control way too damn often, and she can barely grumble when he crowds her up in his arms, kisses her face all over, kisses her lips until she responds.

“Too early.” She closes her eyes, thunks her head on his shoulder, feels his chest heaving counter-measure to hers under her. He can take her weight and is happy to so she lets him hold her and rub her back, feels his cum leak out of her slowly but doesn’t mind because she knows it’s just falling onto _him_ and he _deserves it_ , the fucking animal.

“I said I’d make coffee,” he points out, but he sounds tired, too. 

“Later.” she decides and finds the will and strength to slide off of him and onto her side against him, head pillowed on his arm instead.

“Later.” He agreeds, rolling over so he can keep his arm around her and kiss her again. She falls asleep between one kiss and the next but she hopes, as she dreams, that he doesn’t stop kissing her for a long, long time.


End file.
